Lorn marble angels greet their unannounced
Guests, stone cold palms displaying dignity
And menace, indicating crypts ahead.
Winds bite our cheeks as snow keeps burying
Our tracks as if the living don’t exist.
When alabaster figures seem to move,
We suck in icy January air.
That sky’s so white it could wrap up bodies.
A headstone’s cursive warns: “Remember Night!”
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